


Regret

by Airmid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9704018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airmid/pseuds/Airmid
Summary: Everything seemed to lecture, even the things that shared his bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Nebulous Season Five, set after Changing Channels.

* * *

 

“So.”

“So what?” Dean leaned on the trunk of the Impala fighting back the urge to yell at Sam to hurry his ass up. Prissy princess that his brother was, probably trying to get the right poofiness to his hair.

Gabriel rolled his head, rocking back onto the heels of his feet, body language that said he wasn’t as easy as that smirk suggested, eyes narrowed. Dean made himself look. He had to, he couldn’t back down now after all of this. The archangel shoved his hands into his pockets, narrowed eyes still a thing and Dean sighed.

“I’m just a dirty secret Winchester. The thing you hate screw then toss back into the closet.”

“You aren’t –“

“Oh don’t bother. You make me queasy when you get all flustered,” Gabriel snapped, any remaining mask stripped off as his face got closer to the severe one Cas wore. He almost shuddered. Almost. “You can no more tell Sam where you like to put your dick than talk about what happened in hell.”

“Don’t you ever bring that up,” he said dragging out each word, feeling his nails cut into his palms. Hells apprentice torturer screwing an angel, wouldn’t Alastair be proud. Well if he hadn’t bit the dust in the one good use of Sammy’s blood binge on the road to damnation. Not that it helped because of changed tactics and sweet words. What Michael whispered to him in the night because he still had that pesky human need for sleep.

“They’ll burn all of this to the ground you know,” Gabriel was saying, voice a silk ribbon as the bastard got all up in his head. “They don’t know, they don’t get it. All the things you love will be gone. In the name of _their_ paradise.”

“Don’t –“

“You need to hear it.”

That small form moved in too close, eyes with that peculiar angel only glow and he was seconds from begging. Everything lectured but they all did jack shit when it came to actually saving anything.

“Mike doesn’t get it, won’t get it until he knows it.” The angel stared up at him, tongue pushing over his bottom lip, obscene for a moment before it slipped back in. “I’ll forgive you if you need to show him.”

The motel door banged open. His giant little brother swayed like some tree caught in a wind gust before limping to him, a holdover from last night’s hunt. “Sorry Dean, just over slept a little.”

“No problem Sammy, gotta get it while you can,” he said aware that the space beside him was empty now. That sugar scent still sharp in his nose and he wondered if Sam smelled it. If he knew. “Toss it in, we have to go.”

“K.”

It was halfhearted, bruises punched deep under those eyes as his brother’s duffle joined the trunk clutter. Unspoken testament of too little sleep and too much Satan. He wished the Colt worked. That something, anything would gank these mofo’s.

_Dean._

He could almost hear Gabe’s voice as he got behind the wheel. Baby’s engine turned over as smooth as the day she was made as Sam arranged his mass to some level of comfortableness on the passenger side. His brother tried for a smile; it slid off before it got started.

“Let’s get some food in you,” Dean found himself saying as he backed up the car. “Always makes me think better.”

There was a nod, like Sam was too weary to form words and Dean tried to get his mind to turn off. Tried not to think how close he was to that edge. He was six days past tired with a handful of nothing. Even now he could feel those honey eyes staring at him from the backseat, burrowing holes in deep places he didn’t want to admit existed. Every time he looked though, physically friggin’ turned around to see, it was empty.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice all sleep thick brought him back as his little brother tried to wake up. Tried to not tip over that edge with him.

All Dean wanted to do was pound his hands against the wheel and yell that no, no he wasn’t. He was the farthest he had ever been from okay thank you very much.

_Dean._

_Don’t just don’t_ he thought, mind wild with the chaos of pleas trying to find a voice, cascading so fast through him that he couldn’t suck in air. He needed the trickster, something that made him laugh so he wasn’t screaming into his beer. He needed being touched without pity to the dirt on him. He needed to feel –

“Dean?”

“Yeah Sammy, just distracted sorry. You want breakfast?”

“Be good, could use some eggs.”

 _You could help_ he thought as they drove on. _You could do something other than just this._

No answer came but he could still feel those sharp eyes, bright and brittle on him as he drove them somewhere that Sam could have food. Could maybe collect enough of himself to keep on pushing forward as the world hobbled on around them. Someday, well someday it wouldn’t be able to anymore and he knew he would have to have a real answer then. Something more than a ‘shove it up your ass’ type of snark no matter how classically Winchester it was.

As he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant he barely recalled being there, he hoped he wouldn’t be standing there alone.


End file.
